


Thin Fire Racing Under Skin

by blehgah



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Pining, boys being dumb, i'm editing this after a long day forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 05:03:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16361330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blehgah/pseuds/blehgah
Summary: Soonyoung always wants to room with Jeonghan whenever the group goes overseas. There's something he just isn't getting. Seungkwan and Seokmin try to set things in motion involving someone who does want to room with Soonyoung: Chan.A series of moments before the Ideal Cut Asia Tour.





	Thin Fire Racing Under Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, thanks to the mods for hosting this fic exchange!! Writing something inspired heavily by music and lyrics brought me to looking for inspiration in new places, resulting in trying some new things in this fic. Hopefully it'll be a stepping stone for progress with my writing.
> 
> Secondly, the song I claimed for this fic was Lorde's Biting Down. I have a short spotify playlist for this fic [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/blehgah/playlist/4uIP235KR2NjciIq9ALwAc?si=H9E4iez4R1u4uudcN7j9AQ), if y'all are interested. Happy reading!

Some pills are hard to swallow. Some truths are hard to bear. Sometimes, things need to be taken with teeth bared.

There are a multitude of things he wants. High among them is to be recognized—but that is such a vague concept.

What does it mean to be recognized?

Here is where it starts to break down, where the bigger picture is no longer a haze of uncertainties but a collection of smaller details.

_Tell me what I mean to you. Tell me I’m worth the world. Tell me you’ve chosen me above all else, that I’m the one you love the most, that I have proven myself against all odds and won your heart._

It seems like a tall order; it seems like taking and taking and taking without considering even for a second to give back.

But that is only what the dark parts of his mind tell him. But there is a difference between wanting and acting; there is a difference between saying and doing. Maybe his wants show up in his actions but there is only so much he can hold back.

If he has been holding back at all.

 

* * *

 

It’s an awkward question.

“Why does Jeonghan always ask you to room with him?” Soonyoung asks in what he thinks is a casual manner but actually has him sharpening his teeth and cutting the words into something barbed.

Seokmin doesn’t flinch, however, having been on the receiving end of this question from Soonyoung several times. His patience is astounding; perhaps that’s why Jeonghan always chooses Seokmin over him.

“It’s just that he’s kinda picky about how he sleeps,” Seokmin explains to him. “You know—he needs complete silence and complete darkness. And you know how you… You know. You take a while to fall asleep.”

“And you don’t?” Soonyoung huffs in reply.

Seokmin shrugs. “I guess not. I don’t know, hyung; it’s probably easier for him and you not to have to make so many adjustments, especially when something like sleep is involved.”

A moment passes. Seokmin assesses Soonyoung with a curious eye, unable to understand what Soonyoung isn’t telling him, not critical but simply unsure. The regularity of this question has yet to clear up the issue—which is evident in its frequency.

Even though Seokmin explains it to him as clearly and as simply as he can, as he understands it, Soonyoung is determined to take this problem places where it doesn’t hold the same meaning. He can’t help but warp the issue until it pricks his hands, clenched around it with inexplicable desperation, and leaves him wounded.

Maybe his specialty is self-infliction.

Soonyoung hangs on his question even though he’s heard its answer over and over again.

 

* * *

 

The issue comes up as they prepare to embark on their Ideal Cut tour. Part of Soonyoung knows the answer will be the same, that he will be rejected, but his desire for his ideal outcome outweighs his fear of failure. How will he get what he wants if he doesn’t give it a try?

When he goes to Jeonghan, his hope staggers through his belly like a wounded creature fighting to stay alive. It’s just butterflies.

Jeonghan is an angel—it’s not just a nickname. He’s kind and caring and beautiful. His smile is radiant sunshine pouring over him from parted clouds. Of course, he is human like the rest of them and has faults as well, but they’re easy to forgive.

Maybe Jeonghan is a bit sensitive. Maybe Jeonghan could be more careful with his words. Maybe Jeonghan is a bit cunning and sly.

In some ways, Jeonghan is everything Soonyoung is not—handsome, clever, patient. And if he were to be acknowledged by Jeonghan in some way, maybe it means that he has grown into attributes in which he was sorely lacking before.

_Tell me that I have proven myself against all odds._

When he goes to Jeonghan, the afternoon light is streaming in through slits in the curtains and painting gold over Jeonghan’s cheek. Outlined in brightness, his eyelashes sit low over the curve of his cheekbones.

Perhaps the illusion, the perfect illustration, breaks when Jeonghan squints and uses one hand to block the light from hitting his phone, but that’s okay. The reality remains that Jeonghan is beautiful and holds Soonyoung’s heart in a vice grip.

Soonyoung swallows. His throat works, but his voice remains within the confines of his fluttering chest.

“Hyung,” he says finally. Jeonghan doesn’t look up from his phone. “I was wondering—”

Jeonghan looks up. He squints again, the wrinkles in his nose stark against the light streaked across his face.

“Ah, Soonyoung,” he says in greeting. “What’s up?”

“Well—” Soonyoung adjusts the brim of the cap hanging over his eyes. “You know, for the tour, for our first stop in Hong Kong, I was wondering if you already picked your roommate for the hotel?”

Jeonghan’s expression doesn't change, even when Soonyoung scrutinizes it. Jeonghan is careful, Soonyoung knows this. Jeonghan tries to be considerate of his dongsaengs—even if he may complain about the incident later, when he thinks no one is listening.

“I haven't,” Jeonghan replies after some seconds pass.

The hope in Soonyoung's stomach gasps for air.

“Though I heard someone was hoping to room with you,” Jeonghan continues.

“Who?”

Humming, Jeonghan lifts his phone and scrolls through it. “I don't actually remember, but they texted me about it the other day,” he says.

A few more seconds pass. Soonyoung considers the possibility that Jeonghan is lying to him, trying to gently steer him away. But he won't know that unless he asks. He wouldn't dare.

“It was probably Hansol or Junnie,” Jeonghan comments. “Or—I think it was Seungkwan. I’ll go ask them to double check and come back to you, okay?”

“Uh—okay.”

Jeonghan smiles. He didn’t exactly give a yes or a no, so Soonyoung isn’t sure if he should feel glad or not. Still, Soonyoung smiles back, and Jeonghan starts to talk about something else, something related to concert prep, and Soonyoung starts to think Jeonghan really is a clever, clever man.

 

* * *

 

Once Hansol recovered from his injury, the group was all _go go go!_ when it came to practising. They had to make up for lost time. It always felt like they were making up for lost time. Time lost to eating, sleeping, breathing.

Soonyoung is still thinking about choreography as he’s coming home to the dorms late at night. He had spent about an hour there alone, a lingering spirit at ease in the emptiness, before returning to haunt his bed for a handful of hours.

As he floats down the halls of the apartment, something catches his attention. Whispers. Hints of sound hidden away behind hushed lips.

Soonyoung creeps toward the noise. As he comes closer, the whispers solidify into words.

“We’re not gonna get enough sleep tonight at this rate.”

“You say that like we ever get enough sleep.”

“I’m worried about you!”

“And yet here you are, still trying to put your tongue in my mouth.”

Someone laughs. Soonyoung thinks it might be Josh.

“Only because you keep doing the same to me.”

A giggle—Jeonghan?—followed by wet smacking.

Soonyoung decides that this time, he doesn’t want to linger.

Luckily enough for him, Soonyoung is too exhausted to let ghostly words keep him from sleep. It does, however, haunt him in the morning, remaining a shroud over his shoulders despite the cleansing sunlight that scours him.

He walks through his morning routine as usual. He braces his weight against the sink with both hands and ponders the flat rendition of his face in the mirror, considers the reproduction of lines and the flattened planes.

Soonyoung runs a washcloth over his face. When he looks up again, he sees a strange creature, one different from the one on the camera, one that only exists behind this glass. His eyes are dark smudges and his skin is marred with imperfection; dissatisfaction festers hotly in his stomach for a second before he continues weaving through the steps of his skincare routine. His body is an instrument he wields with ease, but sometimes it is just that—an object in his possession, for better or for worse.

No one in the group fares much better than him when they gather in the practice room that day. Their sense of unity is strong, nonetheless, as their shared passion for their performance fuels their tired movements.

It’s easy for Soonyoung to let go of the outside world and embrace the biosphere of their practice room. There is a cycle of sweating and breathing and moving and Soonyoung feels at home in his own skin.

During breaks, there is casual chatter about room assignments for their overseas tour. Since Soonyoung talked about it with Jeonghan, he hasn’t thought about it. Jeonghan has messaged him after that incident, maybe about the person who wanted to room with him, but Soonyoung ignored it, too busy with work to think about it. He’d let fate decide for him. It was slightly better than thinking that Jeonghan had rejected him after all, even if indirectly.

It’s okay. He knows why. It’s been explained to him over and over. And there was nothing wrong with having hope that things could change; he could at least say that he tried.

A week and some handful of days before they’re supposed to depart, he is in the middle of packing when Chan pops his head into his room. Hansol is absent from his room, getting some last minute things together, leaving Soonyoung alone with their usual mess, the new mess introduced by packing, and Chan’s somewhat hesitant form.

“You haven’t replied to the group chat yet, so I just wanted to make sure that you knew that we’d be rooming together in Hong Kong,” Chan says.

“Sorry,” Soonyoung says without looking up. “You know how it’s been—busy, busy, busy.”

Chan laughs and Soonyoung wonders if it’s just for his sake.

“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry about it—I’m sure the managers will take care of it when we land. Check us in and everything. We’ll just get the key card and settle in for a day or two, right?”

Soonyoung makes a noise of agreement.

“Well,” Chan says. He hovers in the doorway a little longer. “I guess I’ll leave you to packing. I’ll see you in the morning, hyung.”

He disappears. Soonyoung is left alone with his mess.

 

* * *

 

They still have downtime before their departure date. They’d go insane otherwise.

Soonyoung thinks he might be going insane anyway.

“Guys,” he says, and Seokmin and Seungkwan make sound to indicate they’re paying attention. “I don’t know if I’m crazy or what, but I heard something a few days ago that’s stuck with me since.”

“The dorm isn’t haunted, hyung,” Seokmin replies, and his voice is so earnest, as usual. “Mingyu, Myeongho and I went around the building to double-check.”

“I imagine Myeongho was holding your hand the whole time,” Seungkwan comments.

“He did! And I didn’t even have to ask.”

“This isn’t about that,” Soonyoung replies with a sigh. “Though,” he adds, “that’s good to know.”

Seokmin nods.

“Anyway,” Soonyoung continues, “what I wanted to say—is that—”

When he trails off, Seokmin and Seungkwan both lift their heads to look at him expectantly. Soonyoung falters. His tongue curls against his palate. For a second, he blanks out.

“What?” Seungkwan says impatiently.

“Jeonghan,” Soonyoung blurts out. Both Seokmin and Seungkwan deflate a little, the suspense knocked out of them. “And Josh,” he continues, and it’s enough to get his companions to stiffen again.

“What do you mean?” Seokmin asks slowly.

“Like, the two of them,” Soonyoung tries to explain. His tongue twitches in his mouth again. “The two of them—in the dorm, the other day, late at night—”

“But Josh lives in our dorm,” Seokmin says. His eyebrows are drawn together in a nearly straight line across his forehead. “What would he be doing there? You know those two love their beauty sleep.”

Soonyoung can only nod. But then he shakes his head. “That’s the thing, you know—they weren’t sleeping.”

“God, hyung, I can’t take this anymore,” Seungkwan nearly cries. “Stop being so vague and spit it out already!”

“The thing is, Seungkwan,” Soonyoung huffs, “I can’t even be sure about what I heard, but like—it sounded… wet.”

“Ew,” Seungkwan says immediately. “I told you to stop being vague. That is like the opposite of that I wanted.”

Seokmin stares at Soonyoung. Wordless. Still.

“I think I know what you’re talking about,” Seokmin says.

Soonyoung straightens up. “So I’m not crazy?” he exclaims.

He heard what he heard. He heard the words, heard the noises. But he hadn’t seen anything. And it had been late. It was hard to trust his own senses in times like those.

“They’re—” Now it’s Seokmin’s turn to falter. He bites on his thumb for a second, contemplative. “They’re good at being subtle about it. I don’t even have hard evidence. But I’ve heard things, too.”

At this point, Seungkwan is nearly out of his seat, leaning over the table at which they’re seated with both hands. “I have no idea what you guys are talking about,” he complains. “And you’re the ones who brought it up. If you’re not gonna tell me in detail, what’s the point of even including me?”

“I thought I heard them kissing,” Soonyoung admits suddenly. The words burst out of his mouth because his teeth couldn’t hold them back anymore. Because the hinge of his jaw wasn’t strong enough to keep this blurry truth inside his chest anymore.

Now, with the words freely roaming the room, the three men sit in rigid silence.

Soonyoung’s mouth twists, his tongue sour now. He stands. Four eyes follow him upwards.

“Whatever,” Soonyoung says. “It doesn’t matter. They’re allowed to do whatever they want to do.”

His shoulders continue to bend under the weight of his words; although the cage of his chest is empty of this withheld truth, his blood is still leaden in his veins. He is still sluggish.

He still hasn’t really let go.

 

* * *

 

When Soonyoung decided to go off to haunt the practice room once again, Seokmin and Seungkwan were left in his cold wake.

They exchange glances.

“Well,” Seungkwan says, because having the first and the last word puts him in a position of control.

Seokmin nods. “He’s been taking the whole Jeonghan roommate thing pretty badly these days,” Seokmin says. “Some days, I think he’s forgotten all about it, but it always comes back, somehow.”

Seungkwan sighs. His fingertips tingle in the chill of Soonyoung’s lingering effect.

“He needs something to take his mind off it,” Seungkwan states.

“But what? If the concert can’t do that, I have no idea what will.” Seokmin frowns. “Plus, it’s bad enough that we’ll be going abroad soon and he’ll have to remember all over again that Jeonghan said no again.”

“We’ll take him out to dinner,” Seungkwan says decisively.

“Won’t he find that suspicious?”

“Then we’ll have Jeonghan do it.”

“He’ll take that as pity.”

Seungkwan sighs and groans. With a pitying look of his own, Seokmin leans over and pats Seungkwan’s back.

“God, he’s such a pain in the ass,” Seungkwan grumbles. “He’ll need a literal pain in the ass to get over Jeonghan.”

That earns Seungkwan a smack, but Seokmin laughs helplessly anyway.

“You’d think that being on stage was the equivalent of that for Soonyoung,” Seokmin comments, grinning.

“It definitely looks like that sometimes.” Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “But once he’s offstage, it’s just the same thing all over again.”

“Let’s just take him drinking,” Seokmin suggests.

“That might end badly for all three of us,” Seungkwan sighs. “And then who’s gonna clean up after us? Jeonghan?”

Seokmin changes gears. “Who’s rooming with Soonyoung, then?” he asks.

Seungkwan takes a moment to think. “Chan,” he replies.

They exchange looks. The light above them glints in their eyes as an idea descends upon them both at the same time.

“This is a bad idea,” Seokmin says.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” Seungkwan retorts.

“I know what you’re thinking, though.”

“And what’s so bad about it?”

“Is—is a _rebound_ really what Soonyoung needs?” Seokmin asks.

“Don’t say it like that,” Seungkwan replies. He pushes at Seokmin’s shoulder. “It’s not like that—wouldn’t that imply something happened between him and Jeonghan, anyway?”

“I mean, technically, something _did_ happen between them—”

“It doesn’t count,” Seungkwan declares. “Nothing definitive was said. Therefore, this is not a rebound.”

Seokmin purses his lips. Then, he sighs, and Seungkwan grins at his victory.

“I still don’t like this,” Seokmin tells him. An objection is absent from his mouth, however. “But if you think it’ll work—I guess it might be worth a try.”

“Don’t sweat it, man. As long as no one thinks too hard about it, it’ll be fine.”

“So, Chan?” Seokmin says. “If it had to be anyone from the group, I’d pick him, too. But what are we gonna do? Make them share a bed at the hotel and cover it in flower petals?”

Seungkwan grins a wicked grin. “That’s not a bad idea,” he replies.

“It’s straight out of an anime, though. And we’re not going to Japan yet.”

Seungkwan lifts an eyebrow. “Should we wait until we get there, then?”

Quiet fills the room again as they both seriously consider the idea.

“We can’t do that,” Seokmin says eventually. “It wouldn’t work. It’s just a joke.”

“Wouldn’t it, though?” Seungkwan fires back. “Chan doesn’t care enough about anime or dating sims or whatever to make the connection.”

“What about Soonyoung?”

Seungkwan shrugs. “He’s always a wildcard. It might be worth a try.”

Seokmin shakes his head. “No, we can’t. It’d involve too many people. We’d have to book the room somehow, and getting the staff involved would already be too much.”

With a sigh, Seungkwan says, “Well, it was just a silly dream. Still, it should be enough that they’re rooming while we’re on tour. Maybe we should talk to Chan first. He could give us some ideas, some inspiration.”

“He might find us out,” Seokmin whispers. As if someone’s listening.

Seungkwan shrugs. “It’s just a risk we’ll have to take. For Soonyoung’s sake.”

“For Soonyoung’s sake?” Seokmin raises his eyebrows. Then, he nods, resolutely. “Yeah. It’s worth a try.”

 

* * *

 

Seungkwan decided it’d be less suspicious if he and Seokmin didn’t team up on Chan. Seungkwan has a soft spot for Chan, too—since Chan is younger, Seungkwan can’t help but dote on him, but in addition to that protective feeling, Seungkwan admires Chan for his resolve and skill. Their senses of humour mesh well, too, which is a rare enough occurrence in itself.

However, this close to their upcoming tour, it’s hard to coax Chan away from work. He’s glued to Soonyoung’s side, naturally, but everyone follows Soonyoung’s commanding lead in the practice room.

Seungkwan succeeds with a promise of free coffee. They split a piece of cake because they can’t help themselves—“sugar will help replenish our energy!”—and find a booth in the corner of a cafe. It’s late enough in the evening that the place is near-empty, but not late enough that the employees give them withering stares just for existing.

A few bites into the cake, Seungkwan sighs and reaches forward.

“You’re a mess,” he mutters, wiping frosting from the corner of Chan’s mouth. “Have you been starving yourself?”

Chan huffs and sticks out his tongue after Seungkwan’s finger. They don’t make contact, but Seungkwan shakes his hand out anyway.

“No,” Chan replies. “It’s just been a long day. Lots of cardio. You know the deal.”

They make idle conversation about concert prep, sorting out a few things that Seungkwan will likely remember only until they make their way back. Chan eats the majority of the cake, so they order another slice.

“Have you started packing yet?” Seungkwan asks conversationally. “You know, for the first stop.”

Chan nods vaguely. “I emptied out my suitcase from our last trip,” he says. “I don’t need to bring much. We won’t be out of the country for that long and we can always get things if I forget something here.”

“That’s such a waste, though,” Seungkwan sighs. “Buying something you already have?”

“It’s worth not having to struggle with a heavy suitcase beforehand. I know you try to bring your whole life with you on planes. We’ve been doing this for years now; haven’t you learned?”

They exchange a few jabs before moving onto the subject of interest.

“You’re rooming with Soonyoung, right?” Seungkwan asks.

“Yeah,” Chan replies without looking up. He seems more interested in scraping off the last bits of icing from the plate. “We were the only two left when room assignments were being done and someone already claimed the single room.”

Chan’s fork screeches against his plate. “I was thinking of asking him, anyway, so I guess that was good luck or something.”

Seungkwan studies Chan.

“I guess it’s handy to have him around if you want to go over choreo last minute,” Seungkwan says. “But he can’t stop talking, even when we should be sleeping. It’s especially bad when we need rest before a show.”

Chan shrugs. “Nobody’s perfect,” he replies. “To be honest, I kinda like it. Sometimes it’s hard to get time alone with him. Plus, although he talks a lot before bed, he also gives the person he’s with a chance to talk about stuff, too.”

“You guys are a pretty good match, then.”

Chan keeps his eyes on his plate. “I guess. But it’s not like he wanted to room with me, anyway. Just a stroke of luck.”

Seungkwan hums his understanding. So that’s the situation.

“Yeah… He’s still trying to get Jeonghan to agree to room with him,” Seungkwan says quietly. “I don’t really know why he’s so determined—why he wants it so badly.”

“Maybe he’s in love with him.”

Seungkwan tries to catch Chan’s eye and fails.

“Maybe,” Seungkwan says. “Something like that. Doesn’t seem like Jeonghan is biting either way.”

“Mm.”

“I’ve been trying to think of a way to get his mind off the whole thing,” Seungkwan states. Here goes nothing. “Do you have any ideas?”

“You don’t think alcohol will work?” Chan replies with a slight laugh.

“It’s an idea, but it’s more of a short-term solution in my opinion. If this hadn’t been such a frequently recurring problem, I would have thought getting him drunk would be enough.”

Chan throws up his hands. “I’ve got nothing. No idea how to solve this one—after all, you’re right. He’s been juggling this issue for such a long time now.”

Seungkwan tilts his head. “Listen, maybe we just need to approach this from a different angle. Say, if it were you, what do you think would be enough to sway your heart?”

When Seungkwan observes Chan, it seems that several scenarios run through Chan’s brain in quick succession.

There’s a slight pink tinge to Chan’s ears when he finally replies: “I don’t know. I can’t think of much—or, or anything, really.”

Seungkwan leans forward. He tries hard not to let the smile on his face stretch too far, but he can’t help the way the corners lift.

“Come on,” Seungkwan says. He leans forward again. Chan goes very, very still. “You can trust me,” Seungkwan continues.

“Well—” Chan stares hard at the table. “All I’d want… is for him—” he stops and changes course as quickly as he starts. “For that person—to make me feel special. Some alone time, you know, and maybe a gift would be nice to top it off. And maybe that would lead to talking, or… I don’t know. But I think if someone made a big enough gesture—the right person, I mean—then maybe, if I were in Soonyoung’s shoes, I might forget about the whole Jeonghan thing.”

Groaning, Chan drops his head and cradles it in both hands.

“That’s—it’s vague and cheesy, I know. But that’s all I can think of,” he mutters.

There’s more here, Seungkwan can tell. Just by the way Chan immediately backtracks. But that’s fine. This is a starting point—better than what he had before.

Inspiration was all he needed, anyway.

“It’s something,” Seungkwan tells him. He shrugs and Chan relaxes a fraction. “We can see how things play out. Maybe he’ll get over it on his own. Who knows? When it comes to Soonyoung, things can be pretty unpredictable.”

That gets Chan to laugh, albeit weakly.

Seungkwan is quick to change the subject and Chan eagerly follows the new train of thought. They clean up their table and head back to the company building, discussing concert plans once more.

 

* * *

 

 

It's easy to complicate things. It doesn't take much effort to take a step down that slippery slope.

It makes things more interesting. It makes things more difficult.

But god does Chan love a challenge.

Maybe he's a glutton for trouble. Maybe he doesn’t know better—but he likes to think he’s smarter than that.

Sometimes he thinks he lets Soonyoung get away with too much. So much caught on camera, certainly. And maybe some things he brings up, too.

Soonyoung is affectionate and handsy. He's also whiny and clingy. Hot-headed and stubborn. Multifaceted like a polished gem.

Chan has heard of being 'two-faced'—but Soonyoung has so many faces that it's hard to keep track sometimes. Maybe it was written in the stars. That seems to be the best explanation for a man like Soonyoung, if he had to try to give one.

Soonyoung puts Chan in the spotlight and puts him on the spot. He calls Chan his baby and pinches his cheeks and he snaps at him and sulks over the littlest things. He’s kind of a loose cannon, to put it one way.

Still, Chan put up with it because, despite his unpredictability, Soonyoung managed to become a constant in Chan’s life. Soonyoung was and still is a leader to him.

It’s hard to stop being star struck when it’s a habit developed at a young age. And now, at this point in their lives, Chan is hesitant to call it being _star struck,_ but maybe it’s better than a truer alternative.

He feels some things for Soonyoung. He’ll leave it at that for now.

And maybe he can be transparent about it. There’s nothing wrong about admiration in healthy doses. But he’s constantly under surveillance, intentional or not, and his groupmates aren’t stupid.

Especially not Seungkwan.

So he's suspicious when Seungkwan sends him tickets to a dance show. Two tickets, exactly, and a message tacked onto the end mentioning Soonyoung and “research”. Got them from a friend, no need to worry about it, but he's not paying for popcorn.

But maybe this is just what Chan needed. He can't speak for Soonyoung, but there's no need to worry about what he thinks. Not at this point.

It’s a show meant to mix traditional with urban, styles learned in class and on the street. Held in a local theatre, the audience is not large, but it buzzes, alive. Between the rows, there isn’t enough room for snacks, but Soonyoung suggested they grab some street food on the way out.

They sit together, shoulder to shoulder. Snug. Sticky. It’s almost too hot for the mid-summer climate. There is a constant gurgle of drinking through straws, but it soon dies out as interest distracts mouths.

When the show finishes, Chan almost forgets that this was set up. Almost. Soonyoung can’t stop talking about the show, the moves, the dancers, the music, everything. Chan follows his every word as if tracing his finger over a looping thread.

But as they browse the shelves of a nearby convenience store for food, Soonyoung asks without looking, “Where did you get the tickets again? I didn’t hear about it until you told me—though I guess I was just too busy with concert prep—but so were you—”

He stops talking, too busy comparing ramen brands.

“I kinda want the kimchi flavour because, you know, kimchi,” he says, veering completely off topic, “but it’s not the same without actual kimchi to go in it.”

“We could just buy kimchi,” Chan suggests.

“Hmm.”

Chan steps over a box and puts a hand on Soonyoung’s shoulder. Soonyoung looks up and his eyebrows are knit in total concentration.

“If you want something like that, we might as well wait until we get home, don’t you think?” Chan says.

Soonyoung sighs and nods. He returns the cup to the shelf.

“Let’s just check out their kimbap,” Soonyoung says.

He almost trips over a box on the way out. Grinning, a laugh hidden just under his tongue, Chan catches Soonyoung by the waist and keeps him on his feet.

“Hey,” Soonyoung says weakly. He has to look up at Chan for once. His eyes, the lines around them and the lights in them, send tingles down Chan’s arms, all the way to his fingertips.

Soonyoung pats Chan on his chest before walking around the box properly. They make their way to the fridges without another hitch.

“Oh,” Chan says suddenly, remembering Soonyoung’s question, “the tickets. I got them from a friend.”

“From Iksan?”

“No,” Chan says hesitantly. “From here, in Seoul.”

Soonyoung turns to Chan, seeking an explanation, but Chan points out some kimchi kimbap and Soonyoung loses his train of thought all over again.

Chan isn’t sure why, but he feels the need to keep Seungkwan out of this. The conversation they had the other day, in the cafe, seems like it was meant to stay between the two of them.

As they’re stepping out of the convenience store and into the orangey rays of late-evening sunlight, Soonyoung puts a spin to his step, breathing life into the ghost of the show lingering in the back of both their minds.

“Do you think we can put this in the show? Future choreo? Something?” Soonyoung asks. He’s still spinning.

Chan laughs.

“What do you mean? Turning in circles?” Chan asks.

Soonyoung grins and shakes his head. His next steps are measured, careful, a more accurate mirror of the phantoms in their heads.

“No, no, from the—” He cuts himself off and moves into the next sequence. Chan is surprised Soonyoung remembers this much.

The sun descends lower in the sky and Soonyoung transforms into a dark, dark silhouette. His features disappear in the blinding, cleansing sun, and Chan is in awe, at the mercy of these hypnotising footsteps.

“Maybe it’s something like that,” Soonyoung says, mostly to himself, and his movements slow to a gradual creak of his joints. He stops completely and looks up at Chan, standing on the front step of the convenience store.

Chan blinks.

“Were you asking me?” he asks, in a daze. He shakes off the last bits of whatever possessed him as Soonyoung shrugs.

“No,” he says. He shakes his head. “Maybe,” he says instead. “We’ll have to do more research. Maybe we can incorporate some of those moves. Or maybe the group does classes. We can check online or something. They’ve gotta have some sort of social media. Oh, uh, but maybe after the tour.”

Soonyoung starts to throw out more half-baked ideas on their walk back home. Chan reminds him not to speak with his mouth full, but only between bursts of thought; he finds himself engrossed in Soonyoung’s wild trains of thought.

And this is always the thing, isn’t it? Soonyoung is always at the centre of the storm and Chan is always happy to ride the hurricane. He shouldn’t enjoy it so much; Soonyoung’s tempestuous nature rages, ravages many things in its path. Chan has witnessed it firsthand.

But maybe being close to the danger gives him a thrill he can’t give up; maybe he wants a similar power and this is his way to gain it; maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe it’s all of these things. Maybe it’s none of them. Chan can’t say; he’s still figuring it out.

Still, Soonyoung never refuses him. He is always eager to bring him along, and maybe it’s just that neither of them can say no.

 

* * *

 

Seungkwan invites them to get dinner. But he doesn’t show up.

This is hardly subtle, but Chan thinks Seungkwan is just trying to take advantage of their hectic schedule, which is hardly fair.

Well, a break is a break, regardless of circumstances.

When Soonyoung settles across from Chan in the booth, he grins and says, “So, are you paying? Your hyung is pretty worn out and I think I used most of my money getting sports drinks for everyone.”

Chan rolls his eyes. “Sure, I’ll cover it. But maybe think of me when we go out for food in Hong Kong?”

“I’ll get us room service the day of the show.”

Both of Chan’s eyebrows fly up. “You know that we won’t have time for that,” he says. He can’t extract the last bits of disbelief that bleed into his voice.

Soonyoung just shrugs.

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” he replies. “Maybe we can get something after the show.”

They’re quick to order food. When their waiter collects their menus, Soonyoung sighs and folds his arms over the table. He rests his chin on his forearms and looks up at Chan, his lips drawn into a pout.

“Do you think we gave ourselves enough time to prepare?” he asks.

“You’ll never think we have enough time to prepare,” Chan replies. “But—I mean, no one in our group is ever satisfied. So, I don’t know. Maybe not.”

Soonyoung sighs big and dramatic. “You’re no help,” Soonyoung mutters.

“Let’s take a break from work talk,” Chan suggests gently.

Soonyoung huffs another sigh. “You know we don’t really do much besides work,” he replies.

The truth of his statement leaves Chan silent for a moment or two.

“All we can do is our best,” Chan says, and it feels lame and tired as soon as it leaves his tongue, “given what time we do have.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Cheer up, hyung,” Chan says around the attempted grin warping his face. “You’re getting free food; it doesn’t get much worse than that.”

“I guess you’re right,” Soonyoung says again.

“If you really want,” Chan begins to offer, finding his words already weighed down with fatigue, “we can just get our food to-go and go back to the practice room. We can take a break later if you’re not ready now.”

Soonyoung doesn’t look up, doesn’t reply.

“I know we’re not in charge of setting tour dates or locations,” Soonyoung starts, “so we’re not in control over how much time we have to do anything. Sometimes I feel so helpless. We can always try our best, but there’s no way to know that it’s ever enough, you know?”

As he speaks, Soonyoung keeps his head low, distant, cold. But the vulnerability in his words runs hot. Chan feels chills either way.

“You’re right,” Chan says this time. “But what does it mean to ‘be enough’ anyway? Things are always changing. We have to keep trying new things. It gets boring otherwise. And sometimes some things will work better than others. As long as we try our best, then we shouldn’t have any regrets. And if we do, we can just try to work harder next time.”

Finally, Soonyoung rises in the fog of his uncertainty and sends Chan a sideways glance.

“What kind of hyung am I,” he says quietly. He lowers his eyes again. “Looking to you for reassurance.”

“No, no,” Chan says with a speed that straightens his spine. Eagerness fuels the fever in his heart, his hope to be seen as an equal, but his own self-awareness is just as quick to keep his feelings in reins. Tied down. In check.

“No, it’s—you know I’m always here to listen to you,” Chan continues. “Listen—I might be younger than you, but consider this: I’m a member of Seventeen just as you are, and, more importantly, a member of performance team. I know your struggle more than anyone else.”

He might be throwing his other two performance teammates to the side, but this time, for the sake of a little weight in his words, he thinks he can get away with some exaggeration.

A small smile curves Soonyoung’s lips.

“I guess you’re right,” he says eventually. “Opposite day today,” he jokes, “where you listen to me complain and treat me to food.”

Chan smiles back and hopes it encourages a little sunlight out of the spectre sitting across from him.

“And how does it feel, Soonyoung-ah?” Chan replies.

That gets Soonyoung to crack a bigger smile.

“Feels like that’s going a little far, maknae,” Soonyoung tells him.

“Well, I was hoping we were getting comfy, hyung.”

“We’re comfy,” Soonyoung says. “We’re always comfy, you and I. Right?”

The fire roaring in Chan’s chest dies down to comfortable, bearable embers.

“Yeah,” Chan agrees. “Always.”

 

* * *

 

The door to the practice room opens as Chan works on the Flower choreography. In walks his favourite student: one of the oldest members, the one and only Yoon Jeonghan.

“Fancy stuff,” Jeonghan says as he walks in. The door swings closed behind him, sealing in sound, shutting out noise.

Chan lets out a huff of breath and sweeps his hair out of his face. He turns and finds Jeonghan holding out a paper cup in his direction.

“I’m working on it,” Chan replies. He accepts the coffee with a nod. “Thanks, hyung,” he adds.

“Don’t mention it.” Jeonghan takes a sip from his own cup before setting it down on the nearest table.

A grin stretches Chan’s mouth. “Sure. But don’t think I’ll go any easier on you because you got me a gift,” he says.

Jeonghan groans and complains and whines but he jumps to attention when Chan turns the music on again and counts him in. This choreo is Chan’s baby, but Jeonghan has been coming in to observe it as it develops so that he can give feedback and also get a head start on learning it. As one of the members who learns choreography the slowest, Jeonghan has been keen on coming in early.

Jeonghan taps out after two rounds, leaving Chan to work on the steps alone. Still Jeonghan observes, stopping Chan every now and then to ask questions.

“You’re a lot more patient than Soonyoung when he tries to direct,” Jeonghan says, offhand, not thinking. He’s in the middle of taking another sip of coffee when he freezes and realizes what he’s said. “I mean—but don’t tell him I said that,” Jeonghan adds.

Chan laughs. “Well, maybe it helps that it’s just the two of us in here,” Chan replies. He shrugs. “Anyway, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Jeonghan chuckles. A nervous series of breaths.

“He’d sulk up a storm if he heard that,” Jeonghan says. “Good thing this is work-related or else he might be jealous of us, too.”

Chan isn’t really sure what to say to that, so he just nods.

“It’s cute, you know—when he gets pouty. I just hope he isn’t actually taking any of it personally,” Jeonghan continues. He looks over at Chan and his eyes pierce right through Chan’s chest. “Sometimes it’s hard to separate work things from personal things, considering how close we all are. But I think maybe we can help him.”

Something heavy drops in Chan’s stomach.

“You talked to Seungkwan,” Chan says.

A grin sits on Jeonghan’s handsome face. He’s too flippant for Chan’s taste. But when isn’t he?

“He talked to me,” Jeonghan replies.

“What’s the difference?”

“It makes all the difference!”

Chan groans.

“Anyway,” Jeonghan says, and Chan knows that he’s lost already, “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel responsible.”

Despite Jeonghan’s cheeky attitude, deep down, Chan knows that Jeonghan cares. A lot. More than anyone probably knows.

“You shouldn’t,” Chan says quietly.

Jeonghan shrugs. “Maybe I should have been firmer with him. Maybe I shouldn’t have said certain things. I’m sure there were different ways I could have gone about handling him and his feelings, but it’s not too late to do something.”

A million thoughts run across Chan’s mind at once. For now, he’ll sit and listen to whatever Jeonghan has to say before he even attempts to untangle the lines in his head.

“I might talk to him later,” Jeonghan says. “But while we have this chance to talk alone, I just wanted to set some things straight. Or—you know.”

Jeonghan winks. Chan rolls his eyes and feels them rattle in his skull.

“I know that Seungkwan and Seokmin approached this with helping Soonyoung in mind, but I wanted to get your thoughts on the matter.”

Chan has to control his facial expression when he hears that Seokmin was involved, too. Damn. Seungkwan and Jeonghan are a little too cunning.

“I don’t know what to say, hyung,” Chan murmurs. His shoulders cave under the weight of Jeonghan’s words, under the weight of the implications.

Jeonghan takes Chan’s hand. “You can trust me,” he says.

Chan takes a deep breath. Air travels to his deflated limbs but he still feels small in the too-large practice room; the mirrors surrounding him reflect a reality he isn’t sure he can face. They reflect his face and he isn’t sure he can face himself just yet.

“I don’t want to be a second choice,” Chan mutters eventually. He tightens his grip around Jeonghan’s hand, but he doesn’t lift his eyes to look at him. “He likes _you,_ hyung. I mean, he loves us all; we’re a family. But it’s obvious that he looks at you a different way.”

“And you want him to look at you that way?” Jeonghan asks.

There isn’t enough energy in Chan’s body to do much but shrug.

“Maybe,” Chan admits.

It’s the first time he’s said it aloud. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his mouth reflected back at him, speaking the truth into existence, and it’s almost too much to bear. This version of himself, vulnerable and longing, wanting, wanting, wanting, like it’s the only thing he knows how to do.

“He won’t,” Jeonghan replies.

Chan’s hand goes limp.

“He won’t because he can’t,” Jeonghan continues. “You’re right: he loves us all. But as we are all individual, he loves us as individuals, and the way he loves me is different than how he loves you. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be special, either. It doesn’t mean you’re not special, either.”

Surrounded by so many different iterations of a truth he can’t face, the reality etched into his face, Chan has nowhere to run. He squeezes his eyes shut. His legs tense as if to run.

Jeonghan’s hand tightens around his and it’s just enough to keep him anchored to the moment.

“That’s bullshit,” Chan says between clenched teeth. Teeth that just barely cage in his boiling heart.

“It’s not,” Jeonghan replies with nearly as much heat. His intensity startles Chan into looking up at him.

The conviction in his eyes is astonishing. It rushes through Chan’s veins and leaves him dizzy.

“He just needs to open his eyes. He needs to figure out what’s good for him. I’m not,” Jeonghan says. Heat drips out of him and he shrinks. “It’s risky business, getting caught up with another member. But these things happen. And I think you guys could manage it.”

Chan takes a deep, steadying breath. He drops Jeonghan’s hand and walks away from the mirrors, towards the door, burying his head in shadow.

“What does it matter what you think about it?” Chan says. It sounds harsh coming out of his mouth. It scrapes against his tongue. “I know you’re just trying to help, but this is between me and him. And you and him. You can’t just put us together in a room and hope something happens.”

“And why not?”

When Jeonghan replies, Chan doesn’t turn to look at him.

“I know this isn’t some experiment. I’m not telling you to do anything stupid. I’m just saying I think you can appeal to something in him that maybe you haven’t thought about or were too scared to think about.”

At first, anger flares up in Chan’s chest. He tightens his hands into fists. Defensive. Instinctively protective of his pride, firstly, and his heart, secondly.

Truth strikes the heart more precisely than any other weapon. Chan wills his body to relax.

Slowly, Chan turns around. He feels his own eyes turn to face him, lashes lowered against his cheeks, brows casting thin shadows.

In the end, Chan trusts Jeonghan more than he trusts himself. It’s a foreign feeling, looking up to someone rather than being the pillar of strength, but over the years, with Seventeen, he has learned to appreciate it more and more.

“I guess I am scared,” Chan admits. “I could say something that could really—ruin the balance of our relationship.”

Jeonghan tilts his head. Chan follows the slant of his body with his eyes, starting from the top of Jeonghan’s head down to his chest, where the line of Jeonghan’s body opens and beckons him with the promise of an embrace.

Chan goes to him and sighs.

“Could you really?” Jeonghan says. “You know, the thirteen of us, we’ve been with each other for a long time. Since before debut and counting. It’s been years. Could you really say something to him that you couldn’t fix?”

“Well, when you put it that way—”

“I am, and it’s the truth.”

Jeonghan puts his hands on Chan’s shoulders and puts him at arm's’ length.

“If this is something you want, you should go for it. Of course there are risks, but most things in life worth having have risks. Trust me on this. I know for a fact,” Jeonghan says.

“Okay, hyung,” Chan says. His voice is as small as he feels, wrapped loosely in Jeonghan’s arms.

Chan trusts Jeonghan, probably more than he does himself, and that’s just the problem. But if he can trust Jeonghan, he can trust himself, and he can trust Soonyoung. He needs to trust their friendship—and hope that their relationship, complex and confusing as it is, can withstand the tides of change.

It has until now. And maybe this kind of change isn’t as big as he thinks it is.

“I’ll need to think of a plan,” Chan says.

Jeonghan grins and says, “I can help with that.”

 

* * *

 

The days before the concert pass in a blur. It’s too fast to count on the fingers but Soonyoung feels every hour crawl over his skin. Feels his body possessed by urgency and expectations. Still he moves with it freely, knowing his body is an instrument and it will obey as long as he takes care of it.

Soonyoung feels every hour crawl over his skin and he notices every change in the flow of grains over his fingers before they pass through the hourglass. Some things stay the same and they feel stagnant. Some goals remain out of reach. Some people stay quiet when he craves for certain words from them.

_Tell me that I have proven myself against all odds._

Maybe he has a problem with holding onto things he shouldn’t. Maybe, maybe. Maybe he wouldn’t if he knew how. But this is all he knows and all he knows is to keep moving forward despite hardship, self-inflicted or not.

Jeonghan corners him. He is happy to be prey. So delightedly foolish.

“Soonyoung-ah,” Jeonghan calls for him.

Soonyoung happily skips to the trap. He has confidence; after all, it is difficult to trap a ghost if he himself chooses not to linger.

“You want to get lunch?” Jeonghan asks. He loops an arm around Soonyoung’s elbow. “It’s on me.”

“Well, if you’re paying, how could I say no?” Soonyoung replies. His cheeks squish his eyes with his wide grin.

Some other members show interest in lunch, but Jeonghan repels them with sharp eyes. Soonyoung pays it no attention.

They walk to a nearby restaurant. Soonyoung gets kimchi fried rice and Jeonghan gets some cold noodles. Two different approaches to beating the summer heat.

As Soonyoung picks at the kimchi on the table, Jeonghan leans back in his seat. He glances at the door, at his phone, at his hands folded in front of him.

Then, he speaks: “Soonyoung-ah.”

Soonyoung looks up, a piece of kimchi hanging from between his lips. “Mm?” he responds.

“I just…” He trails off. Soonyoung sucks up the kimchi into his mouth and chews patiently.

“About—the roommate situation, for the tour—”

With almost dangerous speed, Soonyoung swallows his food and throws his hands up, waving off Jeonghan’s comment before it could truly manifest itself.

“Ah, no, hyung, don’t worry about it,” Soonyoung says. “It’s not a big deal. We’re not going to be away from home for very long, and there are eleven other guys to choose from. Variety is the spice of life, right? And I’m not gonna have much of that if I keep leaving the decision to the last minute.”

He’s making things up on the fly, but Jeonghan doesn’t object. Instead of speaking, Jeonghan furrows his brows and leans back in his seat again.

“Are you sure?” Jeonghan asks.

Soonyoung nods quickly. He’s not sure from where he pulls out his next words, a series of questions about Jeonghan’s health, his understanding of the choreo, his concert preparations, but Soonyoung manages to successfully redirect the conversation. Asking about the other party is always an easy and surefire way to do that.

In the end, Soonyoung gets free lunch and he gets to protect his pride. He doesn’t need Jeonghan checking up on him after rejecting him in such a cunning manner.

Soonyoung is outgoing only on stage, after all. When it comes to his hyungs, especially, it’s hard for him to find courage. It’s easy to defer and acquiesce.

Some part of him is soothed knowing that Jeonghan had some remorse after all. It frees up some of his brain power that is quickly repurposed for concert prep.

It wouldn’t do to be distracted, after all.

 

* * *

 

The concert day comes. The thirteen of them and a number of staff get shipped out to Hong Kong. It’s not a long flight and they are welcomed warmly soon after they land.

The managers take care of the hotel business. Their luggage is carried off and the boys are brought to the venue for rehearsal.

Everything goes smoothly. The show is a blast, as expected. Although there are definitely assumptions you can make about a crowd before the show starts, based on ticket and merchandise sales as well as the venue details, Soonyoung usually finds himself in awe as soon as he steps on stage.

The cheers, the lights, the waving signs and banners. A feast for the eyes and the ears. He is surrounded by love from all sides, fed a constant stream of warmth, filled with blooms until he’s fit to burst. Nothing makes him feel more alive.

When it all comes to an end, Soonyoung feels like he needs to drag his feet to get backstage. He doesn’t want to leave. The fans don’t want him to leave. So logically, he should stay.

But when he enters the backstage area, he’s welcomed with a different kind of warmth. His family. It’s time to go home and celebrate a job well done. Soonyoung wants many things, doesn’t know what else to do but want sometimes, but in the face of reality, many things are out of his reach. His family reminds him of that. He’s thankful.

It’s crowded and cluttered back here. It doesn’t help that the staff have brought back stacks of takeout boxes, precariously balanced and warped with warmth, and a variety of drinks.

The beer and soju are probably bad ideas, but Soonyoung can’t refuse a drink once it’s offered to him.

Seungcheol gathers them all in a circle, and behind them, their staff offer their support, as always. Seungcheol gives a speech, words a little too fast and a little too rough, affected by alcohol and hours singing and shouting and laughing.

“This is just the beginning,” he promises them all. “We’ve still got a lot more coming. We’ll show the world. We’ll show them all reasons to love Seventeen and that we’ll stick around for a long time. Today marks the start of our Asia tour; may we stay happy and healthy throughout.”

He frees a hand, previously wrapped around Jihoon’s shoulders, and wipes under his nose.

“Thanks for staying by my side,” he says, quieter this time. “Forgive me for my shortcomings as a leader and—”

Jeonghan, on Seungcheol’s other side, jabs him in the ribs. “Okay, let’s put an end to that before the waterworks start,” he interjects. “We love you lots, Seungcheol. You know that. We all love each other lots and we’ll all work harder to improve, as always. Now let’s eat!”

Laughter echoes throughout the room before it erupts in madness. Hands reach for chopsticks and boxes and bottles, each with their own agenda; throw in alcohol and it’s a mess.

Still, Soonyoung’s body tingles with so much warmth. He takes every bump against his side and jostle of his shoulders in stride, happily. Every point of contact is thin fire under his skin and he feels alive.

Somehow, between shots of soju and sips of somaek, the crowd of members and staff alike drift away. Something itches under his skin, a strange burning of solitude.

But it doesn’t last long. Chan emerges forth and aims a wide, beaming smile at him.

“Hyung,” he says warmly, singing Soonyoung’s veins. The simple call lights something in Soonyoung’s stomach. A premonition.

Chan steps forward. He takes Soonyoung’s wrist. His fingers scorch Soonyoung’s skin, so, so hot but not quite painful. Startlingly invigorating.

He’s led back to the stage. The winding and narrow path spins Soonyoung’s mind for the moments they walk, but he blames it on the alcohol. He’s always been something of a lightweight.

Half of the arena’s lights are off; there are enough on to illuminate the rows and allow safe passage. It is strangely empty, lifeless without the crowd or even the cleaning staff. It’s a right ghost town.

Somehow, though, Soonyoung feels at home. It’s second-nature to him to linger in places such as this; the stage is an extension of himself, after all.

He looks at Chan.

“Did you forget something here?” Soonyoung asks. Luckily, his words don’t slur much. They’re all perfectly intelligible. An achievement, certainly.

“Maybe just my common sense,” Chan quips back, just barely audible.

He’s still holding onto Soonyoung’s arm. He slides his hand down so that their fingers touch.

“What?” Soonyoung asks.

“Nothing,” Chan replies. Laughter curls his lips and shapes his voice into something so pretty.

“You’re drunk,” Soonyoung accuses him.

“No, you,” Chan retorts.

Chan’s bright grin is blinding but the warmth is irresistible; Soonyoung steps in closer.

“You brought me out here for something, then.” Soonyoung isn’t stupid. Sometimes. But there is something very fishy about this, and when Chan doesn’t deny it, Soonyoung feels proud of himself for figuring it out.

For a few moments, Chan seems to chew on the statement, contemplating the taste.

“Hyung,” he calls, and Soonyoung's heart is immediately at attention.

He lets go of Soonyoung's hand. He takes a few steps backwards into the heart of the stage.

His arms open and his body unfurls; he looks so big standing in the middle of the stage. His hair is no longer matted against his head but his makeup is smudged; they have yet to make an attempt at washing up since the show ended. His eyes blaze with heat Soonyoung feels down to his toes.

Soonyoung watches him. Completely captivated.

Chan's voice bounces around the stage and surrounds Soonyoung when he speaks: “You know, I’ve admired you for a long time.”

Soonyoung's heart skips in his chest. He has no idea where this is going.

“You’ve been a role model to me since we were trainees, back when I was still in school. Back when you had braces and we streamed from that green practice room.

“You've helped me grow and become who I am today,” Chan says. His cheeks are red with something more than alcohol. “Because of you, I can stand on this stage and be the best version of myself that I can be.”

Chan walks forward and takes both of Soonyoung's hands. Soonyoung still isn't one hundred percent sure what's happening.

“And—I just wanted you to know that you mean so much to me, hyung,” Chan tells him. Gives Soonyoung's hands a squeeze. “I don't know where or who I’d be without you.”

Soonyoung’s first instinct is to squeeze Chan’s hands as well. It’s familiar, comforting. He has memorized the shape of these hands, as well as Chan’s body, and the sound of his voice, and the lines and colours of Chan’s eyes.

The way Chan looks at Soonyoung now is new, but Soonyoung wants to learn that, too. He can already feel the heat of Chan’s gaze branding his mind.

“So—is this a confession?” Soonyoung asks. He can’t imagine what else this is supposed to be. His mind is still trying to catch up to the present moment.

Chan is red all the way up to his ears. He nods.

“You don’t—you don’t need to say anything right now,” he says, finally casting his gaze aside, suddenly bashful. “I know this might be a lot,” he continues, “and I think you should put some serious thought into, um, you know, what we should do next…”

A laugh bursts from Soonyoung’s chest. But quickly he is sobered when Chan sends him a look of pure alarm.

“Chan-ah,” Soonyoung calls, grinning. A pout is starting to curve Chan’s lips. “I can’t believe you.”

His skin tingles and his knees weaken as his body tries to process the radiant energy flowing through him. He ends up dragging Chan to the floor of the stage, sitting for only a second before collapsing onto his back.

Soonyoung lifts their linked hands into the air.

“Chan, Chan, Chan,” Soonyoung says on a dreamy breath. Chan remains silent and still at his side. “You’re a wonder.”

“Wh-What’s that supposed to mean?” Chan replies hotly.

Soonyoung laughs again. Chan is filled with so much heat and Soonyoung soaks it up with ease.

“It means I think you’re a wonder,” Soonyoung says. He shrugs, moving Chan with him. “It means—I don’t know. That you mean so much to me, too. That, you know, I was able to be by your side because you made it easy.”

Soonyoung rolls onto his side. It requires giving up Chan’s hand, but at least now he can take a better look at Chan.

Chan looks up at him as soon as he rolls over. The flush seems to have been tattooed onto his cheeks; it’s a good look, frankly. The pink in his cheeks matches the pink of his lips and the eyeshadow lingering on his eyelids.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Soonyoung asks. His cheeks round with his big, big smile.

“Not if you’re making fun of me,” Chan huffs.

Another laugh. “I’m not, I swear,” Soonyoung insists. His cheeks are starting to hurt with the strain it takes to smile. “I’m just asking an honest question.”

“What do you think?” Chan retorts.

“Hey, no need to get mean. You just told me you like me and now I’m not sure if you really meant it.”

Something glints in Chan’s eye. It is hot and sharp and Soonyoung feels it plunge deep into his heart when Chan puts a hand on the back of Soonyoung’s neck.

“Sounds like a challenge,” Chan murmurs.

Soonyoung licks his lips.

“It might be,” he replies.

A moment of hesitation like the skip of a record. Then, Chan applies pressure to Soonyoung’s neck, guiding him down, down, down.

The kiss is light at first. Gentle. But the more time that passes, the braver Chan gets, and Soonyoung is quickly engulfed in flame, running under his skin and through his veins and deep in his lungs.

He feels so alive.

When they part, Chan is still blushing. His fingers curl in Soonyoung’s hair for a second before he lets go. Huffing a breath, Chan gets to his feet. He extends a hand to Soonyoung, wearing a smile that carves wistful lines into his face.

“We have to go,” Chan tells Soonyoung. “They need to finish cleaning up. And we need to get back so we can get some sleep.”

Soonyoung lifts an eyebrow. Up until that moment, he’d forgotten that they would be returning to the same room that night. Despite the alcohol fogging up his mind, he starts to put some pieces together.

“Alright,” he says. He takes Chan’s hand and gets to his feet.

He doesn’t let go as they walk back to their dressing room together.

 

* * *

 

Once all the food is eaten and all the drinks are empty, the boys and their staff pack up and head back to their hotels. They get caught up by the front door, some still hungry and curious about the local nightlife.

The hubbub gives Soonyoung a chance to isolate one of the members. Even like this, bespectacled and finally clean of makeup, Yoon Jeonghan manages to shine in the dark night.

“Hyung,” Soonyoung calls.

The summer heat is sobering. As if the alcohol has escaped him through the sweat from his pores.

Jeonghan nods to him in greeting. He can’t be bothered to take his hands out of his pockets. Or maybe the thought of moving any further generates more unwanted heat.

“Soonyoung-ah,” Jeonghan calls back. “What’s up?”

Here, Soonyoung hesitates. Jeonghan always trips him up in some way. But maybe today is the day Soonyoung can put an end to that.

He can, at least, make an effort.

“Can I talk to you?” he says. Still stalling. But it’s a start.

Jeonghan glances back at the group of boys and staff alike discussing their plans. Sweat beads on his forehead just looking at them.

Again, Jeonghan nods, and they walk over to the parking lot. They duck behind the row of vans that brought them here.

They’ll have to make this quick. It could be only moments before the group notices their absence. Then again, considering their number and the amount of alcohol dispersed between them, he might have more time than initially anticipated.

“Hyung,” Soonyoung starts again, “it’s… It’s about Chan.”

Jeonghan’s brow furrows.

“Did you—did you know about—that he was going to, like, confess to me?” Soonyoung blurts out haltingly. “Is that why you didn’t want to room with me?”

The furrow in Jeonghan’s brow deepens—but for only a moment. It relaxes as he sighs. A smile falls upon his face instead.

“No,” Jeonghan says, brushing his hair out of his face. There’s relief on his breath. “No, at that time, I didn’t know.”

Jeonghan takes a step into Soonyoung’s space.

“Soonyoung,” he says, and Soonyoung feels small, like a child. “I’m going to say this now, while we’re over here, before you can try to stop me: I can’t share a room with you.”

Something in Soonyoung’s chest splinters.

“Please don’t take it personally,” Jeonghan continues. He puts heavy hands on Soonyoung’s shoulders. “I just can’t sleep when you’re on your phone on Naver before bed, or if you’re reviewing footage of us, or whatever. And I don’t want to take that away from you. Do you get me? Like, there’s no point in making this hard for either of us.

“You know I love you and our relationship is very important to me. So there’s no reason for you to get hung up on that. Okay?”

The question, sparse as it is, pulls on Soonyoung’s chest and every barb and spine it carries catches on Soonyoung’s skin. But thorns and splinters need to be pulled out so that the wound can heal.

“And now that’s out of the way,” Jeonghan continues, “you need to tell me about what happened with Chan.”

Jeonghan pulls in Soonyoung by his shoulders. His eyes scan every inch of Soonyoung’s face; if Soonyoung weren’t already blushing, he’s sure he would under this intense gaze.

“You guys kissed,” Jeonghan concludes. He releases Soonyoung.

“H-How can you tell?” Soonyoung gasps.

Jeonghan laughs. “I can’t,” he replies, grinning. “But it’s easy to get you to say it if I put it like that.”

Soonyoung deflates. He still feels so small. But the new space in his chest is freeing, in a way; although he’d been keeping his feelings close to his chest, it’d been painful to cradle it, spines and all. Now everything just needs to start healing.

“I’m glad he went through with it,” Jeonghan says. He winks when Soonyoung looks over at him, surprised. “I deserve credit for whatever follows.”

“You’re asking for a lot,” Soonyoung replies.

Jeonghan grins and claps a hand to Soonyoung’s back.

“Nah. Credit where credit’s due, Soonyoungie,” he says.

Standing on his toes, Jeonghan looks over the top of the vans to check on the group.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jeonghan says. “Doesn’t look like they’ve come any closer to making a decision. Maybe they didn’t even notice we were gone.”

When Jeonghan offers Soonyoung his hand, Soonyoung takes it without hesitation and follows him back to the group.

 

* * *

 

Both Chan and Soonyoung end up going on a street food crawl, along with Hansol, Seungcheol, Jihoon, and Jeonghan. Soonyoung’s a little surprised some of the more food-inclined members don’t tag along, but the promise of food quickly distracts him.

Throughout their short but fruitful trip, the two oldest hyungs seem to act as a buffer between everyone. Post-concert energy is always all over the place, so it’s a good idea to keep everyone in check.

But, at the end of it, Chan and Soonyoung take the elevator to their room together. Alone.

It’s not a long trip up. Enclosed in this small space, however, Soonyoung thinks his heart has swelled to be bigger than his body. Exposed and vulnerable.

Maybe it’s to be expected, considering what both Chan and Jeonghan had to say to him that night. One slipped under his defenses without his notice and the other stripped them off. He’s a bundle of mixed emotions and deep fried dough.

The elevator dings. Chan spares him a glance over his shoulder, shy and coy at the same time, before stepping out.

Standing in Chan’s burning wake, Soonyoung feels his breath catch in his throat. It’s so much, but maybe it’s just what he needs. To lose himself in someone else’s fire. To lose himself in Chan’s fire, burning for Soonyoung, just Soonyoung, only Soonyoung.

With the way his heart beats in his chest at the thought, Soonyoung thinks it’s the perfect remedy.

Chan reaches the door first, but he doesn’t immediately step inside.

“Oh, what the fuck is that?” Soonyoung asks, a laugh on his tongue. Even standing behind Chan in the doorway, he can see clearly into the room.

Spread over the bed closest to the door and spilling onto the floor are flower petals. Rose petals, to be exact. Considering the sheer volume, this endeavour must have been pretty expensive.

Was Jeonghan up to this? But he was with them the entire time…

Chan nearly doubles over laughing. Soonyoung rests his arms on Chan’s back and laughs too, so helplessly, so wholly.

When Chan catches his breath, he takes Soonyoung’s hand with a gentle grip and leads him inside.

“I feel kind of bad,” Chan starts, a wry smile lingering on his face. “We’re just gonna, like, ruin all these. It must have taken a while to take the petals off all those roses.”

Soonyoung hums. “Maybe they bought them already picked off,” he suggests.

“Oh, maybe.”

They carefully step over the petals before stopping at the bed. They hover, hesitant to sit.

Soonyoung sits first. Chan is quick to follow his example.

“This is so over the top,” Chan laughs.

“I think someone was trying to send us a message,” Soonyoung replies.

Chan grins. “You think?” he asks.

For a moment, all they can do is stare at each other. Soonyoung takes his time and traces his eyes over the features of Chan’s face. Yet again Chan’s eyes have transformed, and something dark and predatory lurks just under the surface. It traps Soonyoung’s breath in his chest. It’s not an unwelcome feeling, far from it.

The waiting game is grueling, and it only serves to sink Soonyoung deeper in Chan’s trap. But his curiosity wins out; he’s dying to know where Chan will take him.

As the stillness continues, Chan must realize that Soonyoung is giving him the opportunity to make the first move. Chan looks away, but his eyes fall to Soonyoung’s lips.

Soonyoung decides to humour him and meet him halfway.

Kissing him here, on equal and petal-covered ground, definitely feels different. It’s loaded. There are expectations.

But it’s an opportunity to prove himself, and Soonyoung lives to hear praise. It’s not one of his proud points. But it does drive him forward.

What drives him forward in the next minute is Chan’s hand against his neck. As they learn the shape of each other’s lips, they try different things until things really click. And when they click, it’s enough to set things into motion, hurtling at a pace that Soonyoung can barely keep up with. But he so desperately wants to hang onto the moment and savour its flavours and textures.

When Chan buries his fingers in the front of Soonyoung’s shirt, Soonyoung remembers to take a break for breath. Sweat drips down his neck and his lungs crash against his chest in waves. Chan is a mirror to him, flushed and trembling so prettily, looking up at Soonyoung through his lashes. Since when was he under Soonyoung?

Soonyoung sits back on his heels. Chan shifts with him and sits up against the pillows.

They hold each other’s gaze as Soonyoung pulls off his shirt. Chan follows suit.

Distantly, the AC groans its exertion, the sound just barely audible amongst their shallow breaths. One fun thing about summertime is the minimal amount of clothes you wear, and it certainly helps in this regard.

Soonyoung pulls his shorts off. They collapse onto a pile of rose petals.

Now the two sit only in their underwear and they stare at each other.

“So,” Soonyoung says, almost flinching at how loud he sounds in the built-up quiet in the room. But he can’t help himself, not when he’s uncertain—he doesn’t think this is the time to go entirely on instinct alone, despite what his body urges him to do.

“So,” Chan replies. His eyes are glazed over and his fingers are resting lightly over Soonyoung’s shoulders.

“So—what now?” Soonyoung asks. Might as well put himself out there. After everything that has happened up until now, there isn’t much Chan can say that will surprise him.

“So, now’s when we have sex,” Chan replies. He doesn’t even blink.

“What—just like that?” Soonyoung cries.

“Hyung, I’ve seen your dick countless times. And I’m pretty sure I’ve seen your butthole, too,” Chan says. The smile on his face is infuriating but at the same time charming—which is also infuriating.

“So you tell me you like me and you kiss me, right, okay, makes sense,” Soonyoung starts, and now his voice is starting to climb in volume, “but are we really gonna—can we really fuck on the first night?”

“There aren’t any laws involved with this,” Chan replies. “You’re not gonna get in trouble if you fuck me.”

“Wait, hold on—” Soonyoung sits back and crosses his legs to keep his balance right on the bed. “You want me to fuck you? You want me to—”

“Put your dick in me? Yeah,” Chan says. He nods and then gestures to the erection straining against his underwear. “You could say I’ve thought about it a couple times.”

“Whoa,” Soonyoung murmurs. Disregard anything he said earlier about Chan being unable to surprise him.

“Like, okay,” Soonyoung continues, “I figured you’d probably want me to jerk you off, maybe even blow you if we were feeling daring, but this is a lot of firsts all at once.”

“Hyung,” Chan says, and the finality in his voice clears out the haze from Soonyoung’s head. “I want you.”

That simple statement is enough to punch the air out of Soonyoung’s chest.

“I want you whatever way you want me,” Chan continues. “It doesn’t need to be tonight, or even tomorrow. I guess it’s more convenient if we do it while we’re at a hotel,” he says contemplatively. “But anyway—the bottom line is, yes, hyung, I want you to fuck me.”

“Oh,” Soonyoung breathes.

Chan smirks. He drags his fingers over the front of Soonyoung’s chest and the fog begins to build in Soonyoung’s brain.

“Do you want me, too?” Chan whispers.

Soonyoung nods. The entire world spins on its axis for a second.

“I do, I do,” Soonyoung murmurs. “If you’re sure about this, then—fuck, yes. I want you, Chan.”

With a loud puff of breath, Chan falls back onto the rose petals. He swipes his arms up and down.

“Am I making an angel?” Chan asks.

The word ‘angel’ conjures up Jeonghan’s image in Soonyoung’s brain for a second. Then, he looks down and sees Chan in only his underwear, surrounded by rose petals, and he decides he doesn’t have time to think about Jeonghan.

“You’re making a mess is what you’re doing,” Soonyoung replies. “Come on, stop that.”

Soonyoung moves to grab Chan’s wrists. Suddenly, the predatory air Chan carried up until then dissipates. Poised above Chan, Soonyoung thinks of a dozen things he can do in this position in vivid detail, flashing behind his eyes.

Chan grins up at him. He tilts his head, offering his neck wordlessly. Soonyoung settles down between Chan’s legs and parts his lips.

As Soonyoung sinks his teeth into Chan’s throat, Chan reaches down and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Soonyoung’s underwear. He waits a moment for Soonyoung’s silent approval before sliding them down Soonyoung’s thighs.

A shiver runs down Soonyoung’s back. The fabric of his underwear brushes the front of his cock and already he feels arousal burning through his system.

There’s a bit of shifting as they both wiggle out of the remainder of their clothes. They share a few giggles and peel a few rose petals from their sweat-slicked skin before settling down together again.

“So, here’s the lube,” Chan tells him, pulling it out from one of his bags by the side of the bed. “And I’m gonna use it to—”

“God, you don’t have to tell me,” Soonyoung interjects.

Chan gives him a cheeky grin and gets to work.

What really gets to Soonyoung is the sound. The rise and falls of Chan’s breath, the groans that rattle in Chan’s chest before dissipating, the slide of slicked fingers against skin.

A surprised moan bursts from Soonyoung’s throat when Chan wraps his hand around Soonyoung’s cock.

“I’m ready,” Chan says, grinning, watching Soonyoung crumbling under his touch.

“O-Okay,” Soonyoung replies.

More shifting. Chan puts on an impressive display of flexibility and brings his knees to his chest.

They breathe together and move together. In that moment, Soonyoung becomes aware of how well he knows Chan’s body, and how much he wants to learn about this new side of him. Soonyoung has touched Chan in so many ways but he wants to touch him like this over and over and over, relentlessly, greedily.

Soonyoung takes his time. He wants to fully appreciate the feeling of Chan’s body against him and the way it opens up to him. Chan seems to appreciate it as well and voices his approval in a steady stream of moans.

Their steady pace gives them room to adjust when need be. It’s not perfect—nothing is—but they’re both patient with each other.

“Ah, Soonyoung, there,” Chan gasps. He digs his fingers into Soonyoung’s back. “Please, hyung—please.”

It takes everything in Soonyoung to stay as consistent as he can. Chan’s moans and groans get tangled in his throat before spilling from his lips right against Soonyoung’s ear. When he reaches his peak, his voice vibrates down every inch of Soonyoung’s skin, bringing him right along over the edge.

Coming down is a very pleasant process, but it’s a delayed one; Soonyoung isn’t inclined to move right away, despite the mess. Despite the numerous flower petals sticking to his skin.

“Oh, fuck,” Chan mumbles from under him.

“Mm?”

“I think my come is like, acting as a glue with these petals,” Chan replies.

That hastens the clean-up process, but it’s pleasant nonetheless.

They muster up enough energy to relocate to the other bed. After stretching out, Soonyoung gathers Chan against his side and begins picking off rose petals from Chan’s body.

“Falling asleep,” Chan warns Soonyoung. His face is pressed against Soonyoung’s shoulder and his eyelashes rest against Soonyoung’s collarbones.

“That’s fine,” Soonyoung replies.

“No, no,” Chan mumbles. “Need to clean up.”

A helpless smile stretches Soonyoung’s lips.

Together, the two of them must paint a picture of perfect absurdity. Naked and covered in pieces of rose petals. Falling asleep with the Hong Kong sun threatening to rise beyond their windows.

Soonyoung feels lucky. To be here, despite his self-infliction, despite his fixations, despite himself. Chan has been so good to him, and if this is truly what Chan wants, it’s really the least Soonyoung can give him.

With some reluctance, Soonyoung rouses Chan so they can get ready for bed. They fall asleep just as the sun breaches the cityline.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Chan notices is the light. It is way too fucking bright. He shields his eyes and rolls away from the windows. He reaches for a pillow, a sheet, anything to cover his face, and his hand meets something warm.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

Chan goes still. His body is still waking up.

Laughter greets him. Something warm engulfs his hand—another hand. One, two, three, four fingers, a thumb.

Soonyoung.

Chan opens his eyes and looks up.

“Come on, Channie,” Soonyoung says. “The food’s gonna get cold.”

Chan’s confusion multiplies thanks to the morning fog clouding his mind. Slowly, he sits up and the sheets pool around his waist.

“Oh,” Chan says as he casts his gaze around him. Next to the bed is a tray laden with food, and next to Chan is Soonyoung, cradling a cup of coffee. Its aroma acts akin to smelling salts and Chan finally grips clarity piece by piece.

Soonyoung leans over and plants a wet kiss on Chan’s cheek. He’s awake now.

“You got the, the…” Chan trails off. He’s forgotten the word for it.

“Yeah, room service,” Soonyoung supplies for him. He grins. “I told you I would, remember?”

Chan blinks. Soonyoung offers him his coffee.

“Good morning, by the way,” Soonyoung says around his grin.

Chan’s chest expands with warmth. His throat constricts for a moment, rough after a good night’s rest, and he can’t think of anything to say.

“Um,” he says articulately. “Good morning, hyung.”

Soonyoung laughs a warm laugh. When he turns to kiss Chan again, Chan meets him halfway.


End file.
